A fearless faith in fiction — Employing, since 2008, a Kantian or Jungian sensibility and an ‘intentional fallacy’ consciousness — Various passions of the reading moment — Walter de la Mare, ELizabeth BOWen, ROBERT aiCKMAN and many others old and new — Please click my name below for this site’s navigation and my backstory as intermittent photographer, writer, editor, publisher & reviewer.
I
“; the rare blue dahlia like that blue moon shrewd things happen only once in, or the call for trumps in whist (”
The cover’s not blue, but more one of the colours this book says can be mistaken for blue. Here we have many literary references to blue, including Beckett’s pocketed sucking stones in Molloy which may not have blue in them at all. A red apple among the oranges. Sex, too.
“An author is responsible for everything that appears in his books.”
A truism here extrapolated in wild tactile proportions, about dirty words, exhibiting passages from literature, such as Barth, Fanny Hill, Henry Miller, Beckett…
The text is a Joycean fiesta of colours and cunts. Semantics and phonetics that itch. Graphology that crawls and colliterates. You can smell it, too.
Won’t be to everyone’s taste. Academic and mind-scraping.
“…with the shattering of previous wholes into countless parts and endless steps; articles of underclothing crawl away like injured worms and things which were formerly perceived and named as nouns cook down into their adjectives.”
“That space in paper sacks which are too small to be re-used is blue. Sucking stones, too.”
This is a musical experience via expletives and colours. A whole world that you did not know existed until now. Not wordplay (but it is that, too) so much as reaching some core of ‘the synchronised shards of random truth and fiction’, a Zen Core where words themselves cannot reach, but you need to go VIA words first to get there.
Scriptus Innominatus.
The Des Lewis Gestalt Real-Time Reviews 
I
“; the rare blue dahlia like that blue moon shrewd things happen only once in, or the call for trumps in whist (”
The cover’s not blue, but more one of the colours this book says can be mistaken for blue. Here we have many literary references to blue, including Beckett’s pocketed sucking stones in Molloy which may not have blue in them at all. A red apple among the oranges. Sex, too.
My reviews of Quentin S. Crisp works HERE in addition to BLUE ON BLUE.
II
“An author is responsible for everything that appears in his books.”
A truism here extrapolated in wild tactile proportions, about dirty words, exhibiting passages from literature, such as Barth, Fanny Hill, Henry Miller, Beckett…
The text is a Joycean fiesta of colours and cunts. Semantics and phonetics that itch. Graphology that crawls and colliterates. You can smell it, too.
Won’t be to everyone’s taste. Academic and mind-scraping.
“…with the shattering of previous wholes into countless parts and endless steps; articles of underclothing crawl away like injured worms and things which were formerly perceived and named as nouns cook down into their adjectives.”
III & IV
“That space in paper sacks which are too small to be re-used is blue. Sucking stones, too.”
This is a musical experience via expletives and colours. A whole world that you did not know existed until now. Not wordplay (but it is that, too) so much as reaching some core of ‘the synchronised shards of random truth and fiction’, a Zen Core where words themselves cannot reach, but you need to go VIA words first to get there.
Scriptus Innominatus.
end
Cross-referenced this book here:
https://dflewisreviews.wordpress.com/2017/07/11/the-best-horror-of-the-year-volume-9/#comment-10202